A Rumpled Shirt
by courthummel
Summary: How far would Chuck go to save Blair from embarrassment? Chair, obviously.


_A/N: Wow!! I had such an amazing response to my last fic, thank you all so much for your story/author alerts and your amazing reviews! I hope to have a bit of a reply session today if I can find internet that lasts long enough, but at least I'll definitely get this uploaded._

_This was originally meant to be a bit more harmless fun/smut, whereas it actually turned into something a bit different and deeper which surprised me more than anyone._

_Reviews/criticisms are welcome and encouraged! This is dedicated to all the readers & especially reviewers of my maiden voyage fic, I love you all! xoxo_

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**Spotted; A certain Queen B in a less than regal state. Gossip Girl is curious to know why our Upper East Side monarch was in the lobby of The Palace at 5am dressed in a rumpled shirt and little else. Something to share or just flesh to bare? Maybe there's just no point in clothes when you have a Bass in the bedroom to greet your return.**

**You know you love me, Gossip Girl xo xo**

Blair's eyes widened as she read the blast on her phone. She sat up to glower at the sleeping form next to her, with its arm draped across her waist. She slapped his shoulder.  
"Baby, not so rough, it's early..." Chuck murmured, his eyes still closed against the early morning light glaring through the open curtains, but his hand roaming over her lap, up her thighs.  
"Chuck!" She squeaked, slapping his hand with more force, making him gasp and retract his hand. "Look at this!! You said nobody would see!" She waved her phone in front of his face. He opened his eyes a little and squinted trying to read the text from its close proximity. "Well??" She demanded.

The words gradually smoothed into focus in front of Chuck's eyes, and he smirked at what he read. He tried to smooth his face into a concerned expression before Blair saw him but he was evidently too late as a third sharp slap landed on him, branding his upper arm with a red hand print. He sucked a breath in between his teeth at the contact and propped his head up on his hand, shoving his elbow into his goose down pillow. He languidly leant up, the covers slipping down to below his navel, showing off his elegant hip bone. Blair's face coloured as her anger was tinged with desire. She wanted nothing more than to push him onto his back and kiss her way up and down the bone where it jutted gently beneath his skin. Chuck noticed where her eyes were focused;  
"Must we have this discussion? I can see your attention is already diverted elsewhere and I must say I am not opposed to you paying that attention its due." He smirked, looking up at her. She batted her eyelashes and smiled saccharine-sweet at him. She reached out gently and put her fingertips to his bottom lip. He pressed a gentle, open mouthed kiss on her fingers before she trailed them down his throat, across his collar bone and down his chest. She gently scratched her nails past his navel before reaching under the covers. She looked into his eyes as she grabbed several of the hairs there and pulling them hard.

She delicately sighed as she sat back on her pillows and dusted her hands off daintily; ignoring the way Chuck writhed on the bed, hands to his crotch, as he curled into a ball. He pressed his face into the pillow but she could still hear his muffled curse as he cried out in pain. She leant sideways into her pillow to gaze down at him, her smile still in place, but now reaching her eyes. In time he brought his face up from his pillow and his hands back up to his head as he once more leant on his elbow, this time taking the time to pull the duvet up to his chest, glowering at her.  
"Now, I believe we were discussing the fact that, because of you, all of Manhattan thinks I walk around hotels in my underwear!" She said to him.  
"If I remember correctly there was no underwear involved whatsoever, so that would be the last thing they would think." He suggested in a faux-reassuring voice.  
"If I remember correctly, Bass, you might not want to piss me off!" She snaps. He nods, taking one hand under the covers to rub the still-stinging bald patch near his thigh.  
"Quite," he murmurs, "but it's not like I enforced your sudden desire for chocolate dipped strawberries, therefore your going downstairs to collect the leftover ones from the lobby was not my fault."  
"You could have done the gentlemanly thing and gone for me!" She fumed, trying to maintain her anger despite Chuck's hand having wandered absently back to her thigh, where it now rubbed delicate circles from her knee to her stomach.  
"I could have," he began, drawing his eyes up to meet hers slowly, as though moving through caramel, "if I hadn't been lashed to the bedpost and gagged with your La Perlas."

Blair reddened deeply and Chuck smiled. He loved how she was acutely embarrassed in the morning about how she behaved when she was with him. She would blush delicately if ever he leant close to her and murmured how he loved how her vixen-like bites had left his shoulders bruised and tender, or how he couldn't wait for her repeat her performance of standing, naked, at the end of his bed and ordering him to his knees before her. It was one of his greatest pleasures to whisper such things at society events, preferably brunch. Her blushes were particularly winsome at brunch, he thought.

She noticed his adoring gaze and her own stare softened a little. She reached out to stroke his cheek and he playfully flinched as though expecting another slap. She smiled gently and leaned forward to nestle against his chest, sighing heavily, the weight of her own expectations still firmly sat on her shoulders. Chuck put his arm tight around her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. He loved her embarrassment, but more so he loved how it wasn't strong enough to stop her. She would still come to him, night after night, and lay herself bare before him. He was the person who had first seen the vibrant, sexy woman she was, the night she danced for him at Victrola, and he had never judged her; he only revered her.

One thing Chuck understood implicitly, however, was the weight of your own, and others, expectations of yourself. He knew that the blast represented, for Blair, another example of her failing to meet her public's expectations, another tarnishing mark on her reputation. Chuck Bass cared for the opinion of very few people; and the person who's good opinion he desired most lay despondent in his arms.  
"What we need," he began softly, almost whispering into her hair, "is another, bigger scandal, so people won't even pay attention to yours. It's not even nine yet, most of the Upper East Side haven't even been served their breakfast yet."  
"How can we find a scandal at this hour? We aren't even dressed and if the Upper East Side is asleep, they quite frankly aren't likely to be causing a stir." She replied. She looked over her shoulder and met his gaze, her beautiful brown eyes tainted with concern. Chuck considered how if only he could make her early morning scandal be forgotten before it could be discussed, her eyes would be wiped free of worry and he would have met all of his personal expectations for today, and forever; to make Blair happy. He his eye was caught by something dark purple and lacy poking out from under his pillow. He smirked dangerously, grabbed last night's gag and stepped purposefully out of bed. He grabbed the now notorious shirt off the floor and kissed Blair on her surprised, open mouth before quickly putting together his ensemble, grinning at her one last time and leaving the suite. Her laughs followed him down the hall to the elevator and as the door opened and he met his reflection he smiled and winked; let's go give them something to really talk about.

**Even more breaking news, UES, and before even so much as my breakfast mojito. Forget the earlier curiosity; all eyes are now on Chuck Bass as he took to the lobby of The Palace wearing only a now familiar-looking shirt and, if our source is to be believed, harbouring one of Victoria's Secrets down below.**

**Any ideas why the young, rich and beautiful no longer seem to require clothes? Better yet, any pictures? I think we need proof that Chuck Bass has taken 'getting into girls pants' to an all new, literal level.**

**You know you love me, Gossip Girl, xo xo**

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_Good, bad, rubbish? What you expected or a bit of a surprise? I want to know please! Reviews are much appreciated and possibly wept over if they're epic flames or really gushy loves ____ xoxo._


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